


Beautiful

by deathtouchwlw (deathtouch)



Series: M i n e [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 1930s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, F/F, First Time, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sexual Content, Vampire Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 07:11:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17699927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathtouch/pseuds/deathtouchwlw
Summary: Femfeb 2019 | Shortfic1930s vampire au; brigitte hears someone calling out her name





	Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> probably read the other works in this series first? and also this is supposed to be 1930s sweden but (leans in really close to the microphone) i dont know what i'm doing.  
> unbeta'd! all mistakes are my own.

“Mama-” Brigitte called from the front entryway of her home. “Mama, I’m going out.”   
  
She stood silent for a moment, waiting for a reply but she didn’t get one. It was too early in the evening for her mother to be in bed, but she might otherwise be occupied.  
  
“Papa?” She tried, only remembering after she’d spoken that he wasn’t home yet. Even if he was, he would be out in his work shed smithing away.  
  
She could hear his voice in her head, telling her that hard work pays off. She knew he was right, but it wouldn’t hurt him to come home and be with his family a touch more often. Sure, her older brothers and sisters had all moved away by now, but she was still here, as was her mother, Ingrid. Surely, he could make time for the two of them.  
  
Well, she wouldn’t be gone for long. She’d be back before anyone noticed she was gone. She slipped her socked feet into her shoes and pulled her favorite golden yellow shawl from the front closet. Spring was warming up nicely into summer, so she didn’t really need the extra layers, but the sun had set for the evening and cooler weather had taken hold.  
  
Before she stepped out, Brigitte grabbed for the basket of freshly baked semlor waiting by the door. The almond paste buns were covered lightly in gingham cloth. She had enough left over to share, and she was sure Reinhardt would enjoy an evening visit even more if she brought treats with her. Though, truth be told, he was always happy to see her no matter what.  
  
Outside the sky was dark blue, growing black. The electric lights of their house made the windows glow gold. Basket in hand, she went down the front steps and followed the path through the front yard. Bugs were making their quiet noises in the grass, and the soft wind whispered as it blew but there wasn’t much else to hear.  
  
Brigitte passed through the wooden fence encircling their home. Her bicycle was leaning against a fence post, waiting for her in the same spot she had left it. She nestled the semlor in the front basket and clambered on, starting off down the lane. The spokes on the wheels of her bike clicked quietly as she rode.  
  
“ _Brigitte_.”  
  
Brigitte backpedaled, skidding to a stop. She planted her feet on the sidewalk and stared ahead with wide brown eyes, peering into the darkness. Had she heard someone calling her name? Was that right? The neighbor’s houses were a good distance from her own but she glanced between them, looking for the owner of the voice who’d spoken to her.  
  
“Hello?” She called out softly. There was no need to bellow at this time of the evening.  
  
Nothing answered her.  
  
Tentatively Brigitte set out again. Reinhardt’s humble home was a ten-minute ride from her own. She liked visiting him, listening to his stories and learning from him. He would never admit to it on his own, the stubborn old mule, but being a veteran of the Great War meant he needed help every once in a while. Brigitte did what she could for him.  
  
There were rumblings of more war on the horizon, and worrisome conversations about dictatorships amassing power in other countries. Brigitte was glad that Reinhardt was safe here in Sweden, living near the Lindholm’s in a comfortable neighborhood. Should the rumors prove true and war break out again, Brigitte would do everything she could to convince the old man to sit this one out.  
  
It was probably odd that her only friend was an old man, the same age as her own father. She spent more time with Reinhardt than necessary, but it wasn’t like she had much of anyone else to spend time with. Papa was always working, and her brothers and sisters were all gone away. Moved to the city for work, or off at university.  
  
It wasn’t exactly like the boys in the neighborhood had come calling either. Brigitte was fully aware of how tall she was, and how she towered over others. She couldn’t help the muscles that grew from helping her father and Reinhardt with their work. She knew she wasn’t as beautiful as most girls, but she didn’t expect to be nearly twenty-three and all alone. She wasn’t even sure she liked boys, not that she’d utter that to a single soul. It just hurt a little how clear they made it that they didn’t like her either.  
  
“ _Brigitte_.”  
  
There it was again! Someone was saying her name. She stopped the bike a second time, jostling the cloth wrapped confections in her front basket with her abruptness.  
  
“Who’s there?” She called out, unafraid of a challenge.  
  
It was probably someone playing a trick on her, some mean prank. It wouldn’t be the first time. Her height and size made her a prime target. She glanced up and down the dark and empty street. The stars were out, glittering up above, but without a moon it was too dark to see much of anything. She was just about to kick off again and finish her ride to Reinhardt’s home when she caught the odd scent of something floral in the air… jasmine.  
  
It was then that she spotted a figure, directly across the street. It was so obvious that someone was standing there, she was startled that she hadn’t noticed them sooner. Although she was strong, and could hold her own in a fight, she would be a fool not to be wary of a stranger in the dark.  
  
“Who-”  
  
“ _Come to me_ ,” A voice spoke, warm and low. “Let me see you, Brigitte.”  
  
The subtle scent of Jasmine made her feel soft, and warm and compelled to obey. She climbed off the seat of her bike and left it there to tip on its side and fall to the ground. The basket of semlor tipped over and the whipped cream topped buns went rolling into the dirt. She abandoned it all readily, inexplicably eager to meet this stranger who wanted to see her.  
  
Brigitte crossed the empty road, drawn to move as if a string was pulling her. As she grew closer she made out details in the dark of red silk and foreign clothing. Two eyes, dark red like blood, peered up at her. Her heart stutter stepped in her chest. In the back of her mind she felt a tingle of fear but it faded to nothing. The beautiful face of this unknown woman captivated her completely.  
  
She pulled at golden yellow knit shawl wrapped around her own shoulders until the piece of clothing fell to the ground. Her clothes were not particularly revealing, but with the loss of the shawl more of her skin was on display. It felt right to brandish it to this woman, to lean down low and offer the curve of her neck. Lips pressed against her flesh in a cold kiss, sweet and gentle. It was her first kiss of any kind, and she had the wherewithal to blush.  
  
Arms circled her broad middle, closing around her in a way that made her feel both caged and completely safe. She wasn’t used to such a feeling, often being bigger and taller than anyone who tried to comfort her. Indeed, she was bigger in this situation too, but it felt different. She knew she wasn’t the one with the power here. She wasn’t sure how, but she knew.  
  
The next thing she felt was the pinprick of sharp teeth at her neck. She gasped gently, afraid of the pain, and it hurt when it came. Brigitte closed her eyes tight, and her hands went to Satya’s waist, clenching in the red and black silk there. She wasn’t sure how she knew Satya’s name either, but she did. In that moment, it felt like Satya was the only thing she knew. At least, the only thing that mattered.  
  
Warm pleasure was birthed from the pain at her throat. It went singing through her veins, traveling the course of her body like a bolt of electricity. It made blood rush between her legs, a feeling she was so unfamiliar with that she absolutely could not stifle her moan. She had never boyfriend, or a girlfriend for that matter. She had never made love, but she wasn’t naive. This was the bliss that came with sexual pleasure.  
  
“So lonely,” Satya whispered, hands sliding up Brigitte’s broad back to cradle her thick shoulders and pull her down, even closer. He cold lips brushed the open neck wound she’d been suckling from moments ago as she spoke. “My poor Brigitte don’t be so certain that no one could ever love you. You are perfect to me.”  
  
Satya suckled at her neck again as the pleasure rose within her, cresting like a wave, washing over her, bringing her closer and closer to some kind of climax. The soft wind picked up, breathing down the empty street. The noise of insects rose. Voices came whispering too her. A handful at first, then a dozen, a hundred, a thousand voices all sounding just like Satya. The sensation sent her over the edge and she shuddered, weak kneed, as a delicious orgasm overcame her.  
  
_You are beautiful, Brigitte_. The voices told her.  
  
_You are mine._

**Author's Note:**

> i'm taking femslash february suggestions year round  
> send requests or prompts ➝ [here](https://curiouscat.me/deathtouch)  
> femfeb '19 masterpost ➝ [here](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/post/182484342728)  
> follow me on twitter ➝ [here](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)  
> thanks for reading ✩°｡⋆


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